


The Weather Begins To Clear.

by She_Who_Shall_Not_Be_Named



Series: Coming Together [2]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:50:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She_Who_Shall_Not_Be_Named/pseuds/She_Who_Shall_Not_Be_Named
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Past experiences, life lessons, character, spirit and so on shapes how we all deal with what life throws at us. It goes without saying the same applies for Tommy and Adam regarding the send/received letter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weather Begins To Clear.

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost I want to thank each and every one of you who read my story. Thank you all very much for the kudos and the comments. I appreciate each and every one of them! So, again, THANK YOU!

 

An event, any kind of event for that matter, never means the same to people. You can take 100 random people, have them experiencing the exact same thing, at exactly the same time and ask for their thoughts, feelings and opinions afterwards and every single time, for each and every one of them, there will be something that stands out from all the others. Past experiences, life lessons, character, spirit and so on shapes how we all deal with what life throws at us. It goes without saying the same applies for Tommy and Adam regarding the send/received letter.

Tommy, for his part, is having the time of his life up in Yosemite National Park being an outdoor hermit. Freed of a burden he still doesn’t know he had. He’s inspired like never before, constantly writing things down in his notebook. Sometimes it’s more a brainstorming form of writing; words, prompts if you will. Other times, he writes down full sentences, some end up standing up alone, others come together in a poem or what could be very, very promising lyrics. Raw, pure, not to mention, unapologetically straight from his heart.

Page after page after page gets filled with a part of his essence and the best part of it all; with every part of his essence he confides to the sanctity of his book, he feels his very essence grow. And not just his essence, no, _he_ grows.  He’s actually gained a few metaphorical inches, he sure of it. He’s in one hell of a good place.

When the sun is finally set and he finds himself back in his room, guitar in his lap, the magic continues. Melody after melody, note after note comes effortlessly. Music sheet after music sheet gets filled with an ease he rarely experienced before. What’s also a first is that the music he plays and writes is light and playful, filled with joy and every other good feeling. He’s humming along as he pens down the last riff he just played and can’t help thinking how he needs to show this to Adam, how great it would be to hear Adam sing the words he penned down.

They’ve done this before, more times than he can count; the two of them having some insane fun jamming sessions, often leading up to no good or nowhere in particular, mostly in the early hours of the day, in the afterglow of a great movie night or a dinner amongst friends at Adam’s place or a night out with the band if they’re on tour. The fact that Adam had, early on, actually convinced him to leave one of his older guitars at his place had taken away any practical inconvenience, too high or too drunk non-included.  Most of the time, they’d keep the same dynamic as they do on stage with Tommy following Adam’s lead while they were creating music.

Right now, however, he’s the one bursting with energy and cannot wait to take Adam along for the ride. The way he feels right now, high up on musical cloud number nine, he wants to challenge Adam. Push his musical buttons in every way he can, and maybe, if he plays his cards right, actually coerce Adam into trying to grunt for real this time.

Contrary to popular believe, heavy metal singers aren’t randomly screaming their ass off. Just like singing opera, grunting takes a lot of skill and technique from both one’s vocal cords as one’s breathing. Ravi had actually explained it to him how to do it when he had come down to hang out with them after they’d taped the musical video for Killer. Adam being the talented fucker he is, not to mention having an insane technical baggage, actually picked it up fairly quickly and after a good and extra-long warming up and guidance from Ravi, managed some impressive, albeit low, growls. Needless to say, it had left everyone speechless.

He can totally picture the scene in his mind, the two of them reinventing heavy metal and holy fuck, that image right there, is his ultimate musical wet dream. Nothing compares to it and ever since he witnessed Adam grunting he’s been secretly writing the perfect lyrics should the occasion ever presents itself.   

 

Adam, on the other hand, is somewhat struggling. He doesn’t regret what he’d send back to Tommy; on the contrary, he meant every word of it. Tommy _is_ the horizon should he be the sea, he _is_ the feather he would carry should he be a summer breeze, he _is_ that secret spice that turns a good dish into a divine dish. They do great when they’re apart doing their own thing, living their own lives, however, when they come together, the two of them become part of some chemical formula. If the music is the charcoal, Tommy becomes the sulphur and Adam, he’s the potassium nitrate. Mixed together they become gunpowder, musical gunpowder in this case. A sparkly, explosive team producing a supersonic musical wave that blasts away crowd after crowd.

They’ve always been close, ever since day one. They just hit it off, connected right away. Some things cannot be explained in words, no matter how hard one tries, they need to be felt, deep down. It is no secret, whether it is to the fans or to themselves, they have a deep lying affection for each other. A brotherly love, that runs deep in their veins.

After having put away his iPhone, he cannot tear his eyes away from the rumpled piece of paper. It calls to him, asking, begging actually to be picked up again and in the end, he does. He reads the letter again, and again and again until somewhere between the sixth and seventh reading something clicks in his head, something he has never, ever said or acknowledged out loud until this very moment. Unsure of what to make of it all he folds it up carefully and tucks it away in his wallet, for safekeeping.

Two days later, while being out with friends for lunch, in the middle of an animated debate over whether or not Jean-Paul Gauthier should have gone for a dark grey coverstitch instead of that shiny black one on that particular jacket Adam zones out. His mind is taking a trip all the way to Saturn and beyond. It’s not until he feels someone’s hand on his knee that’s he actually snaps out of it. He’s about to apologize to his friends, but to his surprise, the only one left is Sutan who has a don’t-you-dare-apologize look on his face. “Come on, sweetie,” Sutan says as he pays the check and takes Adam’s by the arm. “Let’s go to my place. I’ll make you some tea and do your nails in the meantime. I found this fabulous new Metal Rush nail polish. Trust me when I say, you’ll love it. Besides, you don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. You know me; I can totally pull that off for the both of us.”

And so that’s how, Adam finds himself at Sutan’s place, his right hand soaking in a bowl of hot water while his left cuticles are being attended to. True to his word, Sutan is doing all the talking, currently flailing over some absolutely gorgeous new guy at the gym, with a perfectly sized and shaped ass, one he would totally die for. Adam tries, he really does, to participate in the conversation and nods where he’s supposed to, smiles when he has to or hums when it’s expected. Sutan’s still gushing over the boy’s body when Adam can’t hold it in anymore and starts spilling his guts while he paces back and forth in his friend’s crowded living room, dropping water drops on the floor as he goes.

Everything comes out: the friendship, the attraction, the letter he received and how much it has affected him. The only thing he doesn't mention is Tommy’s name. Sutan listens to it all, silently observing the change in Adam’s composure as he takes out a piece of paper from his wallet. He watches the care with which he unfolds it, watches how his eyes show a tenderness that wasn't there a minute ago and he encourages Adam to go ahead and read the letter out loud.

“Tell me Sut,” Adam says once he’s finished reading Tommy’s letter again. Reading it out loud, in the presence of a third person, well let’s just say it causes the fog to clear somewhat in Adam’s mind on what _he_ feels, but not on what the other person feels. “Tell me I’m seeing things. Tell me this is just a wishful trick my mind’s playing on me.” Although his voice’s barely louder than a whisper, the emotions behind it are screaming out loud: hope, love, fear of being rejected.

Sutan’s no fool; he quickly put 2 and 2 together. To his credit, he doesn't let anything on. This being said, Adam needs someone who guides him back to the light and what better way to do it then being completely honest. “No. As much as I want to ease your mind Ad, I’m not the right person you should be talking to. The one you should be talking to however is out there, somewhere, having a quality me, myself and I time. The way I see it is this; you love him, he loves you. Even a blind one can see that, what you need to figure out, both of you for that matter, is _how_ you two love each other.” Taking Adam’s hand into his own, Sutan goes on. “I love you honey, I love my neighbour’s dog, I love my parents, I love my fans, I love every tit heaving body in your band and damn little me, I still love my ex. But, and this is the part where you need to pay attention, that doesn’t mean I actually wanna have any of them in my bed and shake my cute little booty in front of their face if you get my drift. Well, come to think of it, I’d totally do my ex again but that is beside the point.”

“What if I fuck this up? What if we fuck this up? What if this is just me having some massive wishful thinking stuff going on? What if –“

“Girl, please! Will you stop acting like a god damn high school drama queen and man up to this! Since when are you going all would’ve, could’ve, should’ve? Talk to him Adam. Wait until he shows his pretty face online again and hit him up.”

Pulling Adam up and into his arms, Sutan hugs his friend fiercely. “Trust an old queen baby, everything will fall into place. You’ll see, and if not, I swear to come clean your place for the next 6 months wearing nothing but a leather thong and heels.  _That’s_ how sure I am things will work out. Now, you better get whatever else you have up your ass out of it, suck it up until he gets back and come drool over some sexy booties with me at the gym and don’t you dare telling me no.”

 

It’s almost 1 AM when Adam finally crawls into bed. After the gym, Sutan made sure to take his mind of things and what better way to do that then to go buy every gossip magazine they could find and trash each and every one of the celebrities in them in the most horrible way possible. Women are known to be bitches at times, yet queer dudes, they turn being a bitch into an art form and Adam smiles at the memories, they were total badass bitches.

Not quite ready to go to sleep, he picks up his iPhone and takes a tour on his social media. When he checks his Facebook, the first thing he sees as the page loads is a status update causing his heart to skip the at least 3 upcoming beats:  ‘Yo fuckers! Guess who made it back into the land of the living?'


End file.
